


Red Paint

by vhoorl



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-03 21:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vhoorl/pseuds/vhoorl
Summary: The leader of the rebellion has finally been detained.





	1. Captured

The air was cold and damp. That was the first thing he was aware of as he came to. Red eyes blinked against the dim lighting and after a moment they adjusted. The room he had thought himself to be in was not a room at all and suddenly he recognized the feel of bars at his back. They had dug in while he slept and the ache of it hit him. With a wince, the troll lifted his head and took in the state of the cage he'd been placed in. It was rather large. He shifted where he sat and heard the clank of chain. Locked up to the bars, it would seem. He had hoped the pressure around his wrists were only the usual handcuffs and not an actual method of tether. A brief glance told him this cell was meant to house more than one occupant, though the several other chains and cuffs that laid around were currently unoccupied.

With a sigh, the Signless peered backward to see where his wrists met metal. There was some movement he could manage, but ultimately he would need to remain within a foot of these bars. He slid his gaze around and saw that just ahead of him was the cage door. It was difficult to make out, but it appeared to be that he was in a long hallway full of different cages. No souls stirred and not for the first time in his life the mutant troll felt truly isolated. But that had never stopped him before.

The short troll cleared his throat and lifted his voice to ring out from where he sat, trapped on the cell floor, "Excuse me, is anybody there?"

A second passed and no one responded. Only the soft sounds of water as it dripped from the ceiling in some far off corner. He frowned. Somebody had to be close enough to hear him, maybe beyond this dungeon there were those who had heard. It was clear that he'd been sequestered away from other trolls, for some purpose or other. To have no guards around as a visible threat meant they were certain he wouldn't get free, which meant he must be pretty deep into the Condesce's territory.

He did not remember much about the journey here. The Signless recalled the face he had seen his lusus make as he was ripped from her arms. It was clear as day, her voice and her desperation. Her anger. He really only could hope that she hadn't been hurt. Although he had agreed to go quietly, it quickly became apparent that the Dolorosa did not share his pacifist sentiment. Neither did the drones, it seemed; as soon as he was in their grasp, despite his compliance, they saw fit to knock him out.

After that he only knew of voices, the texture of the ground he had been dragged across, more voices, and then the cool stone floor beneath him currently.

As the Signless prepared to shout down the hallway again, determined as ever to be heard, there was suddenly a loud clang. Like a metal door as it slammed against a wall when thrown open. He smiled, briefly, and rolled his neck to help alleviate the stiffness.

A light ebbed closer and closer to the cage. Through the bars of the other empty cages beside him, he could only make out that the figure was tall. Very tall. With broad shoulders and a slow gate. The red blooded troll kept his expression calm and friendly, but it faltered momentarily into surprise when a loud voice echoed through the large, dark hall.

"I heard you're finally motherfuckin' awake... good."

The Signless went very still as tall horns loomed over the top of the cages right next to him and a moment later he saw him. The Grand Highblood, in all his subjugglating glory. The stories he had heard were true; though the hall he stood in just beyond the cage door was no small space, he seemed to just barely fit. A giant mane of jet black hair and a silhouette that threatened to block out the light behind him entirely. The torch he held in one hand lit up his face and the make-up on it, in an eery way that would have sent a shiver down the Signless' spine if he were any less self-disciplined.

His proximity alone felt like an intimidation tactic. Which was probably the point, the red blooded troll decided. The Signless smiled, just fractionally, and stared up into those deep indigo eyes.

"I am indeed awake. I hope you weren't waiting around for me too long." Shackled wrists jostled as he crossed his legs and gave the Highblood his full attention. He tilted his head to one side, "I was all alone down here. You didn't happen to put me in a cage all by myself because of my infamous habit of starting riots did y—"

"Stop talking." The command was simple, absolute. A jingle of keys gave away the fact that the door was about to open. "You will speak when I motherfuckin' want you to." The Highblood jerked open the door and ducked in order to enter; his horns nearly knocked against the metal cage ceiling.

The Signless clicked his mouth shut and his brows raised as the much bigger troll shut the door behind himself. A quick glance told him that the Highblood had not locked it. He looked into the painted face before him, neck craned back and back straight to fully see him. He felt his flight instinct rear up as the subjugglator neared him and then suddenly kneeled down to his level. Regardless the short prisoner sat still, careful to keep a pleasant and mild expression.

"So you're the little mutantblood scum that has every motherfuckin' troll losin' their thinkpans." This was not a question. So it did not require an answer. And the eyes that roamed over him were sharp, amused. Like this was a game. The Signless did not want to push his luck at the moment, trapped and in imminent danger of being culled as he was. He remained steady, bright red eyes locked onto indigo ones. He watched the Highblood's expression shift between entertained to irritated and then back again.

"I'm sure you know plenty well where you are and what I've got planned for you," The Highblood chuckled and raised a brow. He reached out to touch the Signless's chin and the Signless in turn resisted the urge to flinch away or react. His head was tilted one way, then the other. Strangely, in this moment, the red blooded troll noted that he had been stripped of his cloak. Though he still had his leggings, the protective hood and cape were long gone.

The Highblood hummed to himself thoughtfully and a smile spread across his face. A single claw jabbed ever so slightly harder into gray skin along the Signless' cheek. He winced, but said nothing, and closed his eyes as the claw dragged down his face to make a slice. Just deep enough for blood to well to the surface.

Evidently pleased with his work, the Highblood stared at the bright red beads as they sprang to fill the shallow cut. He swiped the droplets off with his thumb and rubbed it between his fingers. It stained the once-gray skin there red and the Highblood nodded resolutely. He patted the Signless' cheek and stood slowly.

"Mhm. Your blood will look real good on my wall," The Highblood reached down and petted messy black hair between two very stunted horns. "Motherfuckin' great addition to my murals. It's too bad this'll be the only time I'll ever get t'use it; your candy red color's like nothin' I've ever seen."

The Signless blinked his eyes open and his brows raised as the Grand Highblood turned to leave. He tilted his head to one side as a couple of red dots rolled down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, why will this be the only time you get to use it?" The Grand Highblood stopped with his hand on the cage door. His head turned to look back over one big shoulder at the small rebel troll.

The indigo blood narrowed his eyes, "What the _motherfuck_ did you just say?"

"I didn't mean to talk out of turn," The Signless started, tone polite and curious, "I just wanted to know why... this will be your only chance."

The Grand Highblood stared at him. For a long, silent moment. His brows furrowed and he turned more toward him. "I assumed that was motherfuckin' obvious, seein' as your lowblood mutant self is one of a kind." Another sharp smile cracked across his face, "And once I spill all your blood, which I motherfuckin' intend to, it'll be over."

There was something thoughtful in the Signless' expression. "I see," muttered the red blood, "That _is_ an issue." He sounded genuinely sad about it, but not for the sake of his own death. The Highblood stared at him and shook his head. As he made to turn away again, the Signless went on.

"It's too bad that I have to be executed, otherwise you could paint with my blood more than just the once." The Signless shrugged, the shackles clanked. "But, I guess it can't be helped."

With a look that plainly stated his lack of amusement this time around, the Highblood stomped back over to the mutant and grabbed him by the chain. A swift yank pulled the red blooded prisoner up onto his knees. The Signless gave a short sound of surprise and pain but did not struggle as he was drawn closer to the enormous troll. He winced, making direct eye contact as ever. "Sorry, was I.. speaking without being wanted to again?"

"You _were_ ," The Grand Highblood shook the chain and by extension shook his prisoner, "You absolutely motherfuckin' were. But since you all up 'n' felt talkative, why don't you keep it up." He growled low in his throat and kept the Signless below him, neck bent back to look up. "What, in the name of the Messiahs, are you goin' the fuck on about, redblood?"

With a neutral expression, The Signless cleared his throat. "I was only indicating the fact that if you did not spill all of my blood in one go, you would have some to paint with whenever you wanted."

When the Grand Highblood's face remained impassive, he continued. "After all, you have me. I'm here, in chains." He rattled them and earned a sharp look from the indigo blooded troll. "I can't especially _go_ anywhere."

The Signless glanced down at the light still clutched in the other's grip, then back up into the shadow-casted face. Up close, the paint was just as ominous. The Highblood seemed to stare him down. He searched the mutant’s eyes for something. Any twitch or tell.

With a soft huff he wrapped the chain further around his fingers and peered at the smaller troll sideways like he was a particularly strange riddle. The Signless lifted up into a less comfortable position, wrists now well dug into by the metallic bite of his cuffs. The red blood rebel was just inches from the subjugglator’s face when he next spoke, “I enjoy myself a motherfuckin’ game, more than any chill fucker you may meet on this rock. I know one when I up and see one, mutantblood. I know your game.”

“No games here, unless of course you want there to be,” the Signless said as he smiled agreeably, despite the awkward and drawn-up position he was in. “I just assumed that you were in the market for bright red paint.” His eyes were steady and betrayed nothing. Even as he knew full well that the only way to postpone his cull date would be to wind up as a living part of the Highblood’s personal paint set. Best not to dwell on the specifics though, it was only survival that mattered.

If he had talked his way out of the Dolorosa’s well-intentioned fashion tips he could talk his way out of pretty much anything.

_Hopefully._

The Grand Highblood peered at his captive for a moment longer and then dropped the chain altogether. The Signless collapsed back onto the floor and grunted from the fall. Curious red eyes stared up, imprints of the where the shackles cut in were blatantly obvious against a canvas of unmarked gray. There was a moment of just silence. A smile curled up the Highblood’s face, devilish and cruel. “You’re a real smart motherfucker, you know that? Pawnin’ your life off as a colorful tribute to the Mirthful Messiah’s…” He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s some type of miracle you made it this far without bein’ wiped away, mutantblood. Now that I been talkin’ to you, I can see how you did that shit.”

The Signless gave the large troll a neutral stare, not certain what reaction was safe. After a moment, as the Highblood turned to leave, he piped up again. “So, should I be prepared for an execution, then? Or…”

With a sharp tug, the Grand Highblood pulled open the cage door and then slammed it shut behind himself. No intent to lock it. No need, really. His chuckle echoed through the hall and the light left with him as he meandered back from where he’d come. But he offered no further explanation or discussion.

A door slammed shut somewhere out of sight and once again he was alone. The Signless felt his shoulders relax by a fraction. He had a moment to collect his thoughts now. To try to formulate plans of escape and ways to get himself out. To make himself useful, if need be. This was not going to be easy and he had no assistance at all. As he slumped against the bars, he closed his bright red eyes. Truly, this situation couldn’t get worse.

In that exact moment, he heard his body complain with hunger. It sounded inexplicably loud in the empty metal cage.

The Signless sighed.

He stood corrected.


	2. A Deal Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Highblood demands payment. A mutant cannot refuse.

When food finally came, he had long since passed out. The wear and tear on his form had finally gotten the best of him. Though he was used to the cold, unforgiving surface of stone as a sleeping surface it certainly was nothing like a recuperacoon or a pile of cushions. It still did a number on his legs which throbbed and the bars stayed as unkind as when he first met them. The shackles were hardly noticeable as at least he could pretend to ignore the metal on his wrists. It was certainly not the first time he had been in cuffs, but the cage was a new experience.

The Signless yawned wide and shook the shaggy dark hair away from his eyes. Despite his confines, he stretched. A few twists, grimaces, and popping sounds later saw him well adjusted to wakefulness with an actual smile on his face. There really was plenty to smile about; he was still alive and there was _food_ on the floor before him. Simple rations, it looked like. Nothing considerate, just necessary to keep him alive. But that was plenty, in his experience. It wasn’t like a life of treason lead to very effective meals; if the drones had dragged him and given him the customary inspection it was likely the highbloods knew all too well how malnourished and ultimately light his body was.

He had survived off less and would continue to survive just as ever. Careful movements helped to nudge the plate nearer with his foot. This was exactly what he’d wanted. The meager grubloaf portion and cup of refreshment liquid shined in his eyes, because it really meant something far more important.

They didn’t want him dead… at this very moment.

It would mean nothing to supply an ordinary prisoner with rations, but to supply a mutant with them when his “trial” and subsequent inevitable death were on the horizon. That wasn’t nothing. That was an admittance that they weren't sure when he would die and saw fit to keep him alive until then. Why be concerned at all, if he really was the affront to evolution and hemospectrum purity that they claimed he was. Why waste food on a waste of genetic material?

The Signless deftly curled the sustenance closer, so it was right beside him. His legs screamed at him to stop moving, to sit still, but he had to eat the food. Before they thought better about this show of uncertainty to his fate. He shimmied so as to be closer to the ground and bit into the loaf. It was just standard faire, but it tasted sweet to him.

After a few short moments, the loaf was gone. He’d angled his face to get a sip of the drink, certain he had been delivered food in this difficult to consume manner to amuse the Highblood wherever he was. Then, at the far end of the hall, there was a loud metal creak. The Signless paused and looked up. Some translucent refreshment dripped from his chin.

With a quick gate, some troll approached from down the hall. Not the Grand Highblood, that much was certain. Tall if the pointed horns that bobbed as they neared had anything to say about it. But this was less wrathful, more precise. The Signless wiped his chin against his shoulder and offered a greeting smile to the cage door just as the troll in question appeared beyond it.

He did not have keys. That much was evident from the quietness, from the clear point made to stand far back from the cell. The Signless was not new to those who refused to get near him; he had been accused of being contagious, of being diseased, of being filthy. If this—his bright red eyes roamed, spotted the evident flash of blue in his attire—blueblood was who he looked to be, then it would be much the same.

When the tall and rigidly stood troll did not speak, the Signless took it as an invitation to do so himself.

“Hello there, are you lost?”

The blueblood went even more rigid, if that was possible. Dark, cracked lenses glinted in the light and hid his eyes but the Signless knew when the look of somebody who would gawk. He tilted his head to one side, smile plain as ever on his face.

“Do you need something? I don’t mean to pry...” No answer. He nodded by way of a gesture at the other’s placement. “Only you’re standing very far away, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk.

Teeth flashed at that and the blueblood looked away; the grimace was pained like he wasn’t certain what plan of action would be best. After a long hesitation, long enough that the Signless had been prepared to speak again, the other replied.

“I’ve been instructed not to engage with you, mutantblood.” The voice was deep and strong, a low but civilized bass that echoed in the wide chamber. It almost seemed polite.

The Signless nodded in understanding. Of course he wasn’t supposed to talk. Words were the only weapon the red blooded troll had ever had and they hadn’t seen fit to disarm him so the only better option was to not engage. “That’s a shame, but I appreciate your honesty. I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less than your job.”

With some difficulty, the rebel prisoner slid his legs into a crossed position. He peered up at the visitor. “You wouldn’t happen to know who brought me rations, would you?”

The Signless shook his head and chuckled, “Sorry, right, the whole no talking thing. I’ve never been very good at staying a quiet, I’m told it can get very irritating.” Red eyes glanced away, deliberately. In his peripheral vision he saw the blueblood’s head turn toward him. When those red eyes swiveled back to look at the tall and muscled troll, he saw the other’s head quickly snap back into place. Determined to face away. He’d caught him looking.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” The Signless shrugged and metal chains clinked as he did. “It’s like a drone collision. Hard to look away even though you know it’s a disaster?” He hummed and then sighed. “No need to explain. I’ve heard it before.”

There was a very unpleasant silence as the blueblood made a face again, like he wanted to agree but couldn’t due to his instruction. The Signless raised a brow.

“There’s no need to torture yourself with my presence,” the red mutant offered, tone light like this was a conversation about the temporary climatory alterations. “Why be down here anyway? Am I being appointed a guard?”

“I am ensuring your continued existence,” the words edged out like they were painful to give into. The Signless blinked.

“Well, as you can see my continued existence is ensured for now. The food was nice.” He smiled. The blueblood frowned.

“It is not _currently_ that I am ensuring it,” he said slowly, deliberately. The Signless’ lips flattened into a curious line.

“Oh no?”

“No,” with certain pretense out of the way, the blueblood seemed more talkative, “I am to ensure it when and only when the Highblood arrives.”

The Signless’ brows shot up, genuinely surprised. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by an ominous slam of metal, identical to the one he had heard shortly after his arrival. The blueblood’s face whipped up to look at the new visitor and his features schooled themselves into a respectful neutrality. “Grand Highblood,” he said, by way of address.

“What in the motherfuck did I say about not talkin’ to the little mutantfuck, Darkleer.” The voice, as intimidating as ever, rung out. “I believe I all about said to fuckin’ not.” A large form, the figure of the Highblood, made it’s way to the occupied end of the hall. A hulking shadow ghosted over the blueblood—Darkleer’s—visage as he nodded.

“My apologies, Highblood. I did not mean to engage it.” Darkleer bowed and stepped further back to allow his superior room to stand in front of the cage.

“Oh! Wasn’t his fault,” the Signless piped up, smiled, “I was the one doing most of the talking, anyway.”

The Highblood reached the cage and threw a large hand out to slam the bars. The bang was amplified by the hall’s acoustics while the metal rattled loudly, enough to make the blueblood twitch and the red mutant flinch. The rebel’s smile faltered.

“Talking out of motherfuckin’ turn again,” he warned. A jingle of keys altered the Signless prematurely that the Highblood planned to enter the cage.

The Signless’ smile returned once again, though more subdued.

As the cage door popped open, the Highblood reached for it to push inside. He sent a passing look to Darkleer who stood at attention. He shook his head at the blueblood and then moved onward into the cell. Head ducked as before to prevent a collision of horns against ceiling. The Grand Highblood left the door open behind him, which the Signless took note of as ever.

The mutant remained quiet. Even as the large subjugglator approached, even as he reached down and ran the coarse pad of his thumb against yesterday’s now-dried cut. The red still stained his cheek. He watched the Highblood expectantly, but calmly. Intrigued that there needed to be a witness to this; that there needed to be a blueblood to stand back and wait. For what? He’d said he was there to ensure his continued existence. That was an odd enough sentiment on it’s own, for a mutant to hear, but even stranger in this context...

Maybe the Highblood had a habit of breaking his toys.

The Signless breathed in as if to ready himself when the Highblood’s claw poked at the old wound, prepared to have it reopened, but as he stared into the large troll’s eyes he realized that wasn’t the intended goal.

Those claws trailed from his cheek to his arm and then, without much warning, dug in. Hard. The Signless winced and his breath hitched. He glanced down to see rivulets of red pool around thick nails. The blood welled up and clung there. Not deep enough to flow out but deep enough to see it. The Highblood removed one claw and a drop or two slid down the rebel’s arm. He smirked, to match the smile that he had just wiped off the Signless’ face.

“I don’t know if you all up and give a fuck, but this arrangement,” he removed another claw and another bright red drop left the tiny indent to cascade down with the others, “Works just motherfuckin’ fine by me.” The Highblood’s head tilted and he watched the red travel down the Signless’ arm. He locked eyes with his prisoner and withdrew the other claws sharply, pleased to watch as the other gasped in surprise.

“Not that it even fuckin’ matters what you think anyway, since you got no choice.”

The Grand Highblood inspected his own hands intently and marveled at the candy red coating on yellow claws. He twirled them around and eyed the color. Equally red eyes stared up at him. Bright, curious, full of _life_. Those eyes stayed on him, wide and thoughtful, as he drew one of the claws up to his mouth and licked it clean.

The Signless’ expression remained calm, though he didn’t smile. It was one thing to plan to be a living paint supply, it was a very different thing to know it as it happened. “I had a funny feeling that I would be given no choice.” He leaned back and the chains clinked, like a reminder that he was a mutant prisoner with no rights. At least, though, there was the hope of escape if he was still alive to not have any of said rights.

“But… how do you plan to keep me around if I’m wanted dead?” His head tipped in curiosity as the Highblood before him brushed claws along his arm, transfixed by the movement of the blood as it rolled.

“What I say, whatever I want, is what goes up in this place.” He chuckled, a deep rumble. “If I want your mutant ass around, then it will be motherfuckin’ so.” The Grand Highblood wiped some of the blood off his arm and then touched The Signless' cheek with the same hand. Red smeared across his jawline like a mark of ownership. He stroked a claw down the side of his face and another rumbling sound echoed from his chest. The Signless closed his eyes and nodded, fully understanding the power wielded over other land dwellers by the subjugglators. Namely, the Grand Highblood himself.

“Of course,” he acknowledged, dark lashes fluttered and red eyes peered up at the Highblood, “What about Her?”

No explanation was necessary as to who he meant. The Highblood’s eyes narrowed and he made an irritated noise which turned into a low growl. The Signless stayed relaxed, even as he felt one of those large hands grip his chin. “She…” He paused, seemed to consider his response, “Will shut Her seadwellin’ mouth if She knows what’s good for Her.” Everything in his rough tone sounded resentful. On the verge of rage.

The Signless kept his breathing steady as claws dug into his skin. He stared up into the painted face before him and blinked slowly, patiently. The indigo blood seemed to regain some level of stability, after a moment or so. His glare turned into a grin. “Besides, so long as you ain’t out ‘n’ all spreading your heresy, She won’t fuckin’ care _what_ I do with you.”

Those words hung in the air. “Well,” said the small blood-caked troll in an equally small voice, “I suppose that’s comforting.” He smiled at the Highblood and seemed to hesitate before he continued. “I know I should likely stop talking, but I do have just one more question. If I am allowed it, of course.”

The Highblood snorted, cruel and sharp. “What is it, mutantblood?”

“I was wondering as to the presence of the blueblood,” he nodded shortly toward Darkleer who stood stock still. Eyes averted.

Sharp teeth. The Grand Highblood had sharp, dangerous teeth that were all entirely visible. His clawed hand left it’s grip against the Signless’ face. He chuckled and his mirth slowly built into a full-bodied laugh, which he subdued as the confused rebel watched him. The Highblood hummed and poked the mutant on the nose, entirely too entertained.

“That motherfucker’s here,” he began, his voice filled with humor and something darker that the Signless couldn’t place, “To make sure you don’t all up and die… when I leave you here to bleed your mad red elixir on the fuckin’ floor.”

Red eyes widened. Yellow claws scratched hard down an already bloodied arm.

Lips parted in a silent, pained shout.

“ _Scream_ for me, redblood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still deciding on how far i want to take this! let me know if y'all enjoyed it


	3. Rinsed Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rebel prisoner gets himself cleaned up... but is met with a particular kind of interruption.

Something wet splashed across his face and the mutant troll’s head shot up abruptly with a gasp. He heaved several breaths and shook his mop of dark hair. A soaked mess with two short horns that protruded. When he had blinked enough liquid away from his eyes, the Signless peered up to see who had woken him.

With all the careful discipline he had shown before, Darkleer stood above the Signless holding a large empty bowl. Clearly the implement used to throw cold water onto him as he slept. Truly, the rebel prisoner did not even remember when he had fallen asleep. He squinted at the tall blueblood and cracked a smile. Confused, strained, but still polite. “Oh, hello there, you finally came into the cell I see.”

Darkleer did not seem to like that he was in the cell with the Signless. However, he simply averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Have you lost any feeling in any part of your body?” The tone was calm and the voice deep, but the words were tortuously rehearsed. The Signless wondered if there was anything the blueblood said that did not sound as if it were scripted beforehand and run by the Highblood for editorial’s sake. The rebel leader sat forward and stretched his limbs; nothing seemed off, in particular… save for the _intense pain_ that prevailed in every last part of his body.

“Don’t believe so, I can feel everything just fine,” he offered. The Signless glanced down at his arm and noted that it was coated in his own red blood, so much that the gray was entirely blocked out. It stung, in so many places, but it was bearable. Certainly not the worst he’d ever received, he wondered if perhaps the Grand Highblood had gone easy on him for this first time. Or, maybe it was to test his stamina. Which, this situation was really not conducive to an accurate report. Were he not already put-upon by so many old aches, he was certain he wouldn’t have fainted as readily as he did. The blood loss must have gotten to him.

Everything that happened swam in his brain before him and he recalled how affronted the Highblood had looked as his head drooped with exhaustion. He knew he had screamed, at least twice, when claws dug in just a tad too far and when they migrated up to his collar bones. He could not quite see the wound there, but knew it hurt the most out of all his current injuries. It had almost felt like the subjugglator carved something into him, but what it was he did not know from his altered perspective.

The Signless also distinctly remembered that Darkleer had excused himself at one point and come back not long after. Just in time to see the Highblood squeeze his arm to force more red out. The Signless had noticed mostly because he had fixated on the blueblood’s movements in order to steady his mind, to avoid going into shock.

Darkleer’s face _had_ been pretty entertaining, so there was that at least.

He shook his hair once more to flick the rest of the wetness off and Darkleer grimaced in distaste but kept his opinion to himself. Instead, he moved on with the rest of his scripted interaction, “If you were made to stand, could you do so without assistance?” Cracked black lenses glinted in the low light, unyielding. Intense.

The mutant nodded simply and his legs shifted to show that they could still do such. He got them underneath himself. “I should be able to, yes.”

“Good.” Darkleer coughed into a fist and carefully rounded the Signless in such a way that he would not touch the small troll. The blueblood reached for the chains that held him to the bars of the cage. A curtain of long, straight black hair fell around his face as he leaned down. The Signless watched him in his peripheral vision.

“I am going to remove your chains. You will need to be taken to the ablution block.” There was a jangle and the tell-tale sound of metal clinks. A lock, opened. The Signless felt the pull against his wrists go slack, though the heavy weight of the cuffs remained. He blinked slowly. Red eyes slid to the state of the cage door, left ajar.

Run. _Run._ **_Run._**

With a few more light metallic sounds at his back, the chain slipped free from the cage bars at his back. Untethered. Unbound. Shackles alone did not a prisoner make. And the door was so close.

 _Run as far as you can and keep running, just_ **_go_ ** _._

The Signless inhaled sharply and felt the blueblood tense at his side. Fear. Readiness. Prepared to see him make a break for it. Only half a moment later, the Signless breathed out in a particularly relaxed way that rolled into a good-natured chuckle.

“It certainly will be good to wash off,” the rebel said and his voice exhibited no signs of concern. It was reigned in, out of sight and out of mind. He offered a smile to Darkleer and slowly rose to kneel, slow and unmistakably willing. The taller troll stared at him with suspicion, but took the chain into his hands regardless and wrapped it twice around strong fingers. The Signless got to his feet after a momentary hesitation with only a slight wince. His legs burned with the effort but did not hazard to collapse, so that was good enough.

“Keep pace, mutantblood; I will not hesitate to drag you should you fall behind.” Darkleer gave the chain a soft tug to demonstrate, then turned and made to leave with the Signless in tow.

“Well then, I’ll make sure to not fall behind, shall I?”

 

**6 ● 9 ● 6 ● 9 ● 6 ● 9**

There truly wasn’t much better than an ablution trap after a long few days of torture, exhaustion, and more torture. The Signless sighed and sank in deeper. He felt almost immediately cured of every single physical ache, like a slate wiped clean. In truth, he could not recall the last time he had been given the privilege to use a true tub. Usually it was streams and rivers and the rare ramshackle ablution pod provided by truly gracious olive blood hosts. Those did not sit even within the same realm as this particular experience.

Low-slung and especially deep, assumedly to accommodate the height of someone such as Darkleer or the Grand Highblood. The large stone and metal apparatus was a pretty obvious luxury and the block itself was well-lit. Ostentatious, engraved symbols were peppered throughout the room, on stone columns and in the metal frame of near-by reflective wall installations. They all matched the Highblood’s symbol, filled in with indigo glass.

The Signless leant on the edge of the ablution tub and peered around at the room. He hadn’t noticed all the rather interesting detail-work in the masonry when he came in. It had been a rushed entrance. Darkleer had all but pushed him into the block, removed his shackles with a short warning look that the mutant had raised his hands to in placating surrender. Then the blueblood left quickly, face rather more flushed than it had been earlier. The heavy door shut and made a very prominent noise that could only have been a bar lowered to _keep_ it shut. Ah, yes. More locks. That certainly was a running theme.

Alone to himself and his thoughts, the Signless hummed and rubbed at his wrists. They were sore, to be sure, but it was already a relief to be without those thick shackles for this brief a time. He glanced from his legging folded up on the table near the door, up to the ceiling with it’s brightly painted colors, then across to the reflective wall installations once more.

He could see himself in the mirror surface. Upper chest and on exposed outside the tub’s contents.

A short claw tugged at one lower eyelid, pulled it down to inspect how dark and reddened the areas under each of his lookstubs were. Lack of rest would do that. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, smearing it backward from his face and getting it wet. It stuck up at odd angles. The Signless nodded at the twin in the mirror, but then performed a double-take.

Red eyes narrowed and focused in on a particular detail. A spot on his chest. He leaned farther out of the ablution trap and squinted, then felt his head rear back in surprise when he realized exactly what he was seeing.

The carving the Grand Highblood had so kindly given him earlier. In the bright red color of his blood, was the same symbol that decorated the very block he sat in. That denoted one all powerful subjugglator in particular.

It glared back at him and he ran fingertips over it lightly. Uncertain what to make of it. The cuts hurt if he pressed hard and he slowly slipped back down into the tub.

As he stroked the wound absentmindedly, there were some particularly meaningful footsteps just outside the door. Two voices rumbled alongside one another, one that he did not recognize. Possible one of the quiet blueblood guards he had spotted as Darkleer shoved him along. The other was entirely too obvious. He listened into the conversation best he could and watched the door in the reflection.

Once the unfamiliar voice subsided, the bar of the door cranked. It swung open in a sharp motion. The hinge griped as if it were slammed around harshly out of habit.

The Signless’ gaze met the Highblood’s own in the reflection. He smiled, as light as ever, and turned around to face the bigger troll. “Fancy meeting you here,” the prisoner joked. His hands slipped back into the tub.

Though being nude in front of a subjugglator was an unquestionably unnerving experience, the Signless did not seem remotely phased. He played with the liquid around him and his fingers swished through the still surface. Crimson eyes trained on the Highblood as he closed the door behind himself. This room, clearly, had been built to fit his stature unlike the dungeons below.

The Grand Highblood crossed to the tub without much pretense and reached down, in an all too casual manner, to dip clawed fingers in. The red blooded troll’s head shifted slightly in interest as he watched ripples appear. He then looked up into the Highblood’s expression and was surprised to see a vague half-smile sit there. It was… almost unguarded, genuine.

He hesitated to speak, uncertain if he wanted to break the strangely comfortable silence. When the Highblood offered no words, though, it became apparent that he would need to voice his question.

“Ah, should I be—?”

“Quiet. Yes, you motherfuckin’ should.”

The Signless nodded and slid down more until he was covered right up to the point where the pretty little scar of ownership sat. Silence descended again, only broken by the sounds of liquid as it sloshed gently.

With a low grumble, the Grand Highblood stood up from the trap and turned away to go to the table where those striped leggings sat in a neat pile. He stretched bulky arms above his head and twisted his neck. Mane of hair just as untamed but not nearly as intimidating as in the low light of that underground hall. The Signless blinked and remained silent on the other end of the room, curious enough to hold his comments just a second longer.

He was rewarded with at least some form of answer to his curiosity when the Highblood undid his vestments and slipped off bracers. They were tossed onto the table and the Signless felt his face flush suddenly as the indigo blooded troll did not stop there. After only a moment or so, the subjugglator was as nude as his captive; pants balled up and left on the counter as well.

The Highblood turned back toward the tub and if the rebel mutant hadn’t been red in the face he certainly was now. The Signless forced himself not to stare too far down and instead focused on the cloud of dark hair around the Highblood’s head as the big troll stepped into the tub.

As he situated himself and let out a rough sigh, the indigo did not acknowledge the Signless’ presence at all. He relaxed into the liquid and then finally flicked dark eyes up to glare at the mutant. A low rumble echoed from the Highblood’s chest and the Signless swore he could feel it through the tub. In turn, he wondered if the large troll could feel him absolutely _vibrate_ with trapped questions. Although he could hide fear, curiosity was not so deniable.

“Fuck, look at you all up and losin’ your shit,” he growled, “What in the mirthful motherfuck could you possibly have to say that is _that_ fuckin’ important, redblood?”

“Sorry, it’s just,” he tilted his head, “I was wondering exactly what you meant by this.” The Signless sat up just a fraction, excited to voice his thoughts, and gestured to the carved symbol in his skin.

The Grand Highblood’s symbol.

At first, the indigo blooded troll said nothing in reply. Then, slowly, a chuckle reverberated out of him. The Highblood shifted forward. For his part, the Signless remained still and watched as his captor loomed over him in the tub. Half exposed to the air, he gripped the edge of the tub with one hand. His other hand reached forward and he pressed a claw against that angry red mark. The other winced but did not resist.

“It means that you’re mine, you little mutantfuck.” The hand moved up and buried in dark, damp hair. He tugged experimentally and the Signless’ head moved with the gesture, compliant. His eyes slipped shut and then slowly reopened to look at the Highblood. Calm and collected.

“Your candy red ass belongs to me,” the indigo reiterated. The Highblood punctuated it with another tug of the Signless’ hair as he leaned over him. “And y’know what’s all up and fuckin’ special about this?” He wore a ghost of a smile as he lowered himself over the mutant. Despite himself, the Signless shivered. The Highblood’s lips brushed against the curve of his ear.

“You… you twisted motherfucker, you _wanted this_.”

The Grand Highblood grinned. Then, without pretense, sharp teeth latched onto the Signless’ neck. And bit down.

The Signless yelped. Bright red pooled around the subjugglator’s fangs.

“I’m, I..” he tried, but the words didn’t flow.

The Highblood pulled back to lap up the red as it poured forth and the mutant beneath him gulped in a harsh breath. Indigo eyes locked onto red ones. Yellow claws found purchase on the Signless’ undamaged arm. The rebel leader let out a wavery sigh which upticked into a laugh and he smiled.

“Perhaps I did,” he allowed, and dared to reach his unoccupied arm up toward the Highblood, “But I imagine you’ll find that my wanting it... means in the end, you still did.. what I wanted.” Fingertips rested against a painted cheek, gentle and almost pale. “Is that true, Grand Highblood?”

Above him, the indigo went stiff. The Signless spared a worry for his life, aware of the fire he played with. Aware he could be burned.

The Highblood’s shoulders shook. A noise bubbled up within him and turned into a laugh which rang harsh and unforgiving, right by the mutant’s ear.

“Oh, you are a funny little motherfucker,” he sighed, entirely too pleased. Claws stroked up and down the Signless’ arm. “I knew it’d be a good fuckin’ time with this shit, I always know a good ass time when I see one.”

“What, ah… do you mean?” He tried not to think about the blood on his neck. The blood on the subjugglator’s large, jagged incisors. He had to focus.

The Highblood met the mutant’s eyes once more and he lowered his voice. As if letting the other in on a little secret.

“I’m gonna have the motherfuckin’ best time  _watching you break_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! if you liked it, let me know


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